Starburst
by MightyOmega
Summary: When Zim had first come to realize this label was placed on him, he had adamantly denied it. But eight years on Earth had effectively proven he was such; Zim felt, he had emotions. Possible ZaGr. R&R please. :3


Hi, all! This is my first attempt at IZ fanfiction. I'm trying very hard to not make the plot so generic. My writing style is a little stuffy – I find it hard to make it fast-paced like other authors are able to do. I like details, dammit! As a side note, I have a filthy, but appropriately timed, mouth. F-Bombs shall be dropped my friends in the due course of this story, among others. My apologies in advance. And _please review_!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

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><p><em>5:30 PM, Earthen Time<em>

Earth was a strange place, with strange inhabitants. The majority of its dominant species was astonishingly ill-advised and subpar on an intellectual and functional level. How these humans managed to evolve into the planet's rulers was beyond Zim's attempts at understanding; he had ultimately concluded there had been a fluke somewhere along the evolutionary chain. The human race had managed to draw the long straw, as the human saying went.

Staring out at the sunset from his home's rooftop, Zim scoffed. It had taken him eight years, but he had finally come to terms with himself. He was a Defective, his mission was a fool's mission, and he actually liked the rock that, until his arrival, had no name to it in the Irken Empire. Eight years ago, he had crashed to Earth, foiling the Tallest's attempts at sending him floating into space to his death. Turns out that little post-it note with a question mark on it was a planet after all.

"I truly was an idiot back then." Clenching his fists, Zim suppressed a growl of hatred. His once undying adoration for the Almighty Tallest had since been replaced with pure hatred. While his pride in the Irken race still remained, Zim harbored great contempt for its rulers for the actions they brought against him. The Tallest were nothing but children in adult Irken bodies; they held no remorse for fooling an Irken under their regime, treating Zim like a plaything. It was unacceptable.

Sighing, Zim roughly jerked his gaze skyward.

Maroon eyes focused on the setting of the Earthen sun, keenly watching the bursting of colors as the Earth's giver of light retired for another day. Sights like these, they didn't exist on Irk; the home planet was in a state of perpetual artificial light. Ever preoccupied with constant militant endeavors, the Irks had concluded that keeping their atmosphere exposed left the planet exposed to enemy attacks. A dome made of the strongest metals in the universe had been constructed around the planet, and artificial lights now sustained them.

Sunsets hadn't existed on Irk for thousands of years. And besides, the majority of the Empire lived on the Massive, the home planet reduced to a military training facility and residential habitation for some of the lower citizens deemed unworthy of the Massive. Below the home planet's surface housed the Smeetery, the artificial production-line for Irken race.

Sitting there on his rooftop, Zim, for once in his life, felt at home; he felt _real_. Even though the human race could be unceasingly grating at times, they were a curious life form in his eyes. For the most part, the humans were content in being content, wishing to live their short lives as comfortable as possible. Not all of them were complete morons. The Dib-Stink and Gaz-Human were two immediate examples. Zim yawned, stretching into a comfortable position to his back. The stars would be out soon.

In his eight years on this planet, Zim had formed an odd relationship with the two aforementioned humans. What started out as an animosity between Dib and the alien had turned into a friendship. They still bickered and carried on, but never in a menacing way; almost like brothers. Zim groaned, "I really am a defective." At that he let out a maniacal laugh.

Defective.

When Zim had first come to realize this label was placed on him, he had adamantly denied it. But eight years on Earth had effectively proven he was such; Zim felt, he had emotions. 'Normal' Irkens would have had trouble understanding the very _human_ concept such as comradeship – hell, talking to another Irken was challenge to not start a fight. Animosity almost literally ran through their veins; the drive to fight sometimes overwhelming.

And while Zim still had that drive to create destruction, it was nowhere near as escalated as it had once been. Tracing his life back to Irk, Zim had discovered his PAK had slowly been malfunctioning from birth and throughout his Academy training for Invader status. What started out as a calm, collected soldier slowly morphed into the psychotic, manic Zim that the planet remembered and held ultimate contempt for. Zim doubted that in a few more Earthen years he would even need his PAK to survive; It's control over his personality and behavior had all but ceased function. The life support was dwindling as well, as the great process of evolution had been modifying his anatomical structure to handle Earth's atmosphere since landing on the green planet.

Perhaps it was the Irkens that were the fools. In an attempt to become the strongest and most powerful species in the universe, they had taken their own evolutional chain and shattered it – deciding their own fates through machinery and superficial logical planning. Zim knew for a fact that more and more defectives were being procured by the decade; his birth and subsequential survival had been pure luck. The scanner on the Smeetery had been delayed that day – a defective had slipped through the cracks and into Irken society, and instead the smeet behind him on the conveyor belt had been zapped into nonexistence.

For that is how the Irks treat their newborns – if one has one detectible flaw, they are executed on spot by the scanner. Zim shuttered at the thought; even as newborns, Irkens had self-awareness. They knew they were alive, and most certainly knew what the giant gun was and intended to do as it was pointed in their faces, firing up. Zim cast his gaze to his hands, "I was killing innocents from day one."

His lip curled in contempt, revealing a row of razor sharp teeth.

Looking to the now glimmering stars, Zim got to his feet. Standing now at a respectable six foot and two Earth inches, Zim arched his back. Hearing a satisfying crunch make its way down his spine, he proceeded to descend the stairs leading back into his home. Whether or not he would have grown to this height naturally, or due to Earth's lighter gravity, Zim didn't complain. If he ever got bored enough, Zim figured he could always ring the Tallest and rub his height in their faces.

"GIR!"

At once, an ear-piercing scream was sounded from deep within the underground labs of the alien's base. Zim shuttered to think at what mischief his little robot had been reeking moments before, but resolved to fix whatever was assuredly broken at a later time. With a loud bang Gir, Zim's equally defective SIR unit, popped through the kitchen's elevator trash can.

With loud plop to stand before his master, Gir gave a silly grin and lopsided salute, "Yeeees, Master?"

Placing his gloved hands behind his back, Zim began to circle the robot in an elegantly menacing way. The robot watched on in delight, believing it to be some sort of game. "Gir. The Dib-Stink and Gaz-Human are late. We are leaving. Ensure you do not forget anything."

"Are there gonna be tacos, Master!" Shouting in glee, Gir began to run in circles whilst banging on his head, "I LOVE TACOS!"

Looking on at his psychotic friend, Zim activated his human disguise. He had learned over the years that his former disguise _was_ in deed, for lack of a better word, dumb. Zim could only thank Irk that many humans were simply too stupid to question his green skin and odd form of dressing. The new disguise was similar to that of Taks, in that it was a hologram. Microscopic pixel projections filtered over Zim's body giving him the illusion of a normal Earthen male.

His skin was no longer the normal shade of green he once pranced around in. Pride and ego still intact, Zim's hologram skin still had a light green tint to it; he refused to walk around without some of his heritage showing. Hair now covered the sides of Zim's face, to hide his natural lack of human ears. As inept as they were, the humans did know that not having ears was abnormal.

Long ago had Zim retired his standard Irken uniform. Although the material was made to stretch to accommodate the expected one inch Irken-growth-spurt, it hadn't stood a chance against Zim's seemingly unnatural growth. And he'd be damned if he'd up and order a custom uniform from the Massive; Zim vowed to only contact his planet when his base needed updating. Even in exile, the Irks provided for their own to ensure they lived through what was supposed to be a humiliating existence as a defective.

Jeans and a black tee now framed his lithe, but muscular form. He opted to keep his military issued boots. As Dib had once told him, "Those are badass, man."

"Come, Gir."

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><p><em>Earlier that day, 4:45 PM Earthen time<em>

Dib glanced attentively at his watch; he and his sister had agreed to go to Zim's house for dinner around five. Although he wouldn't admit it, in order to keep from boosting his extraterrestrial friend's already massive ego, Dib was intrigued by the idea of trying Irken food. Apparently Gir's idea of good food was appalling enough to Zim to make him improve on his culinary skills – and even to the level to where he was confident enough to present it to others.

Chuckling, Dib rose from his computer chair. _"Zim is always confidant. At least he's not a smug little bastard anymore."_ Coming out of his thoughts, he said aloud, "Still crazy as hell though."

"You're talking to yourself again." Gaz had passed her brother's room and was heading down the staircase to the living room, her molten eyes never leaving her GameSlave and anguished squeals of dying vampire piggies.

Falling unceremoniously onto the living room couch, Gaz caught the sight of something moving in her peripheral vision. With a sharp turn of her head, she looked to see what it was. So help whatever it was to distract her from her game! If it was menial or of no consequence, it would be doomed to her mighty wrath. Pausing her game, Gaz placed it on the cushion beside her. Rising, she went into the kitchen.

Her eye twitched in annoyance. It was her father, and not the hologram father, the real one. "Dad?"

"Shhhh, Shhhh, Shhhh, daughter!" He cried, waving a hand behind him, his eyes never leaving his work. Gaz idly entertained the idea he was where she got her intense ability to focus from. "I'm making….TOAST! Third generation!" Professor Membrane made a brash turn about, proudly displacing his re-re-modified super toast. It had sparkles and it glowed.

"Your obsession with toast isn't healthy, dad." The teen commented dryly.

Leaving her conversation with her father at that, Gaz returned to the living room to continue with her mission of slaying vampire piggies. She was slightly disappointed; she hadn't had provocation to doom anything in quite some time. Hi Skool seemed to reward the other children with a few IQ points – people wisely kept their distance from the dark female least they meet with an unpleasant turn of events.

Passing through the space that connected the kitchen and living room, Gaz caught sight of the sparse photographs adorning the otherwise decorative shelf. One was of Professor Membrane and a dark-haired woman holding the infant forms of herself and Dib. Gaz had never quite discerned whether or not her father had paid this woman to be in the photograph or not for appearances sake – it was the only photograph that existed of their 'mother.'

Another photograph was of her and Dib eight years ago, when they were still in Elementary Skool. She smirked; in the background was Zim, glaring daggers at her brother and pointing an accusatory finger at the boy, obviously shouting something. Gaz took the picture frame into her hands and gazed at her childhood form. "I was so damn small." Her lip curled in amusement, "And Zim was a midget."

Her eyes lifted to the final two frames on the shelf; Hi Skool senior photos of Gaz and Dib respectively. Eyes darting between her portrait and the frame in her hands, Gaz shrugged at her relatively unchanged appearance. Dark eyeliner, heavy mascara, short purple hair and penetrating golden eyes remained. All that really had changed were her height and shape due to puberty.

The teen snorted. Explaining _that_ to Zim had been interesting when her physical changes had begun years prior. Standing at a reasonable five foot nine inches, Gaz had filled out a womanly athletic shape. Her clothing was still dark, the skull pendant still a signature daily.

Gaz was lurched from her musings by the sudden realization that her brother was peering over her shoulder. Dragging her gaze over to him, she glared at him.

"We're gonna be late, Gaz." Dib said, unfazed by her death glare, "You know how irate Mr. Punctuality gets."

Gaz grunted while pushing her much taller brother from her person. To her dismay, her famous death glares no longer seemed to hold affect over her sibling as they once had. She supposed it was partly due to his height, an impressive six foot, just under Zim's expansive height.

"Shut up, Dib."

With that, Gaz replaced the picture frame to the shelf, and the duo left the Membrane household.

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><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

Mmmmkay. First chapter…ubber boring...and five pages long! o_o Hopefully the second chapter will be a little more involved in terms of character dialogue and actions, but with just as many pages. I'm excited about playing with these characters and their personalities - please keep on my case if I start getting OOC or my writing style grates on your nerves. Above all I want to develop my writing, so let me know how I'm doing, 'kay? (:

I'll try my hardest to update once a week; but if you don't see any movement on this story for more than two weeks kindly start to harass me until I do.

-Peace.


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